I have been vain my entire life.

I always believed I was hideously ugly, when I was a kid. Somehow that translated to me being totally fixated on looks as an adult. When I got fat, I got interested in fashion. I thought that would distract the world from the spectacle of my face combined with my unfortunately assertive belly, and have I mentioned I’m a wee bit self centered?

Somehow what cured me was meeting him.

Don’t get me wrong. I was horrendously disappointed that G-D brought him into my life after I was fat and not before.

But still. In spite of all my vanity. He managed to teach me that there is much more to loving someone than how well they do or do not fulfill social standards of beauty.

I sat down next to him. Finally got up the courage. I stared at this skinny, nerdy guy with big ears and for a moment, I’ll admit, I was confused. I’d been fantasizing about him for the past three days and okay, sure, fucking Disney and Hollywood teen dramas had taught me to expect, well, something else. The Hulk in ripped jeans. Somebody out of a superhero movie. Not someone who looked quite so, well, normal.

And then he said something, or moved, or breathed, I can’t remember. He did something, and was himself. He did something, and I got that weak-in-the-knees feeling. That once in a lifetime, want to jump your bones and only yours for the rest of my life, Marry you today if you asked me feeling.

I know, I know. Lust is not love. I know what you’re gonna say. But I’m demisexual. I only…